Writing

This whole blog thing could just be a precursor to something I’ve been told I should do on many occasions, but it is oh, so scary.  An amazingly huge task.  This thing?  Write a book. There have been moments when my verbal words are impacting to someone and they will spontaneously tell me that I should write a book.  (As if it’s as simple as making a batch of cookies.  Just pop one out!) Or maybe some aspect of my story as a runaway to New York City is especially riveting, and out it comes again, “You should write a book!”

It is actually a sweet compliment for someone to tell me this, but somehow it reminds me of how overwhelmed I felt as a teenager when faced with the simple prospect of drawing something in detail.  I wasn’t a proven artist, and I still am not, but it wasn’t whether or not I could do it, it was how long it would take that kept me from undertaking it.  It’s kind of like that with writing.  How could I ever organize my thoughts in such a way to have it come out making sense, stay interesting, or be worth the time it takes a person to read it?  We’ve all been bogged down with endless details in someone’s autobiography.  To them, those details were important to write, maybe even therapeutic, but absolutely coma inducing to the reader.  It is highly probable that this could happen!

Anyway, this little blog may be a start.  We shall see!  I suppose, if nothing else, written words are a gift to my children and their children in the years to come.  A peek into the soul of one who has gone on, words to cling to in grief.  Ha!  I am getting ahead of myself here, aren’t I?

Anyway.  Whether you read or not, it’s time to write.  Lord help me!